


Ten years later

by seraphim_grace



Series: White Butterfly [4]
Category: Weiß Kreuz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-18
Updated: 2012-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-03 20:43:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphim_grace/pseuds/seraphim_grace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ficlet in the White Butterfly Universe<br/>A glimpse of them in the future</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten years later

The Dairai was abuzz with people raising the shutters against the winter, which had come quickly to Kyoto that year.

Aya-no-Bara sat in his chamber, which adjoined the chamber of his lord, and brushed out his knee length hair with an ivory comb. He maintained a look of bored disdain as he listened to the animated gossip of the courtesans and servants in their own chambers. Sometimes he garnered useful information for his lord that way because everyone knew that the beautiful and cold Aya-no-Bara was a lack wit who cared for nothing but his lord and his appearance. 

They did not share their gossip with him, which suited him fine, for he heard it through the walls and passed it on to his lord. 

His lord trusted him completely.

But when he was seen in his lord’s company he still wore that same expression of bored disdain.

The other courtesans despised him and did their best to exclude him because Aya-no-Bara was beautiful and gracious and his lord was none other than the Imperial Negotiator Crawford who had married the Rukia-hime of the Fuji House.

Crawford was handsome, rich and said to be kind- although the servants whispered that there were often marks on Aya-no-Bara’s beautiful skin, a cuff to the face, or burns at his wrists such as a rope might make.

He never paid attention to them when Aya-no-Bara joined him at court and they hated him for it.

It didn’t bother him.

 

When he had finished his toilet to his own exacting standards, his long wine red hair pulled into a tail held in place with two long golden pins and a golden cuff, two shorter lengths framed his face but he had no bangs to obstruct the view of his perfect forehead. He rose in a swirl of rose patterned silk that dragged along the floor behind him. He wore layers of patterned kimono held in place by a golden chain that matched the ornaments in his hair.

He slid open the door and with the clatter clack of wooden geta he went along the veranda to where his master was waiting.

 

Crawford sat beside a brazier with a low table of food beside him on black polished pieces of wood. Slipping off his geta to reveal a pair of bare feet, Aya-no-Bara elegantly stepped into the room pulling the doors shut behind him.

He knelt in front of his master, his white hakama pulled shut over his knees as the other layers parted like a sea of heavy silk. He lowered his head to the brushing of Crawford’s lips against his neck in greeting.

Crawford grazed his teeth against the soft skin of Aya’s throat and pushed him back and Aya went willingly. He lay back and let his long legs unfold from underneath him as Crawford kissed at his neck.

He pushed him back a little softly, “supper is getting cold, master.” He said quietly.

“You’re right, Aya,” Crawford said, and then pushed the tray away, “and it can get cold.” He said, “you come to me looking like that, and expecting me to eat.”  
He reached out for the chain across the kimono, Aya-no-Bara batted his hand away, “but master,” he protested, “it is still early.”

“You listen to those harpies too much,” Crawford said, “you are mine, indulge me.” 

Aya-no-Bara rolled his magnificent eyes but still undid the clasp holding the chain fastened shut and parted the layers of kimono. He crawled up along where Crawford knelt, undoing the bows of his hakama as he went. “I spoil you.” Aya-no-Bara told his master. “Tell me what you want to do to me.”

With his mouth pressed against Aya’s ear Crawford whispered, “tell me what you learned from the Lord of the Midoru Clan.”

Mirroring his master’s touch with his lips against his ear. “The man is a fool,” Aya said, “he is being utterly controlled by his catamite.” He rolled his hips against   
Crawford’s, rubbing against the flaccid length of his cock, “the boy is clever but petty minded. He might be a threat in ten years, but not now. It looks as if Lady Midoru will have him strangled regardless, or scarred so that her husband has no more use for him. She likes to control his politics.”

“And is better at it.” Crawford admitted and bit down on the lobe.

“She supports the Emperor, at least for now, whilst he supports her son’s claim to the lands. The boy is planted to promote the claims of the Minamoto who would take over the land, she suspects this,” he reached down and began to undo his master’s hakama as he spoke, “but cannot prove it. This is why she mentioned it to the empress’ handmaiden.”  
Crawford laughed and reached back to the tray of meat that lay in a pool of it’s own gravy and rubbed his now greasy fingers against Aya’s opening and listening as Aya pressed a open mouth gasp of a kiss against the side of his head. It had taken time to learn how Aya liked to be touched but there were many in the court that would have paid a pretty yen to see him like this, his head cast back as he veritably screwed himself unto Crawford’s fingers. “The Minamoto,” Aya gasped into his ear, “if they took over the Midoru lands they would,” he grunted, “have enough power to challenge the emperor.”

“I know,” Crawford replied, removing his hand and wiping it clean on the leg of his hakama as he opened them with one hand, Aya had wrapped his arms about his neck and was biting his ear as he spoke. “I’ll tell the emperor,” he said, “and have the boy executed.”

He pushed Aya down unto his lap and rubbed his erection against his cleft, once, twice and then positioned Aya him with his hand. “Do you need any more information?” He asked sliding down unto Crawford’s bent thighs, it was with a hiss that Crawford had once thought was pain but was restrained pleasure. Aya was not a screamer but part of him wanted to be.

“Later,” Crawford told him and began to rock into him with soft thrusts that made Aya press his face against his neck and just grunt. 

It was always like this, Aya could be trusted and he gave so much. No one suspected that Crawford’s beautiful boy concubine was perhaps his best spy, and that these assignations, which no one questioned, because after all who could resist such a concubine, were how they passed on information secretly. There were no sweet nothings between them. Crawford owned him and managed his use prudently. But no one else, no matter how large the offer, was allowed to touch what was Crawford’s. He might attend a seien for a price, but he was no korobi tayu.

Aya arched up in such a way that his own hardness was pressed against the rough hairs on Crawford’s stomach.

This would not be a long drawn out affair, there was a need in them that was surprising. He had not seen his master in nearly two weeks. 

He came with a hitched hiccup and Crawford thrust into him hard, once, twice and on the third time he came biting into Aya’s neck. 

Aya sat there for a moment, appreciating the fullness within him, and then as he caught his breath, he pulled a piece of cloth from his sleeve and wiped himself down as he arranged his clothes, and then dropped the stained fabric into the brazier. He was still pleasantly flushed and his austere hairstyle had become dishevelled as he sat down facing his master. “And now dinner is quite spoiled.” He said with a little smile in the corner of his mouth.

 

Glossary unique to this piece  
Seien – banquet  
Korobi tayu – a roll over tayu (one that puts out)  
Dairai - imperial palace


End file.
